


a thousand years

by 100hearteyes



Series: love is not always what you think it’ll be [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: As of chapter 2, Day 2, F/F, Ghost Clarke, Happy Ending, Vampire Lexa (The 100), also total disrespect for every vampire and ghost rule ever, clexahalloweenweek, it will depend on y'all's response, not Clarke or Lexa's though, sorry - Freeform, there's a very brief and general description of how Clarke died so be careful with that, there's also a super brief literally two word mention of suicide, this might have a part 2, we'll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-01-23 18:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12513812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100hearteyes/pseuds/100hearteyes
Summary: Lexa has been a vampire for roughly a thousand years. After travelling the world, she decides to settle down in a -supposedly- haunted mansion, so she can live the hermit life she's been dreaming about. Little does she know, the house really is haunted and its occupant is not going to let her have peace and quiet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for day 2 of the Clexa Halloween week, Halloween creatures.
> 
> Please forgive any glaring mistakes, I wrote it on mobile. But I was very careful. Anyway, enjoy :)

Lexa is not sure exactly what got her here. She remembers turning a girl only for that girl to run away to better enjoy the perks of eternity. That... sucked. Yeah, she's definitely not the best comedian out there. And now she's saying 'yeah'. Clarke's subpar vocabulary is rubbing off on her.

Clarke.

She remembers, many years after the heartbreak, ending up in a suburban area called Polis. The irony. With everyone she loved gone, she much preferred living alone and away from society. Hearing about a supposedly haunted mansion that no one would near, Lexa decided it was the perfect place to live and dedicate her life to knowledge.

And it was great — during the first week, at least. Then she found out that "supposedly haunted" was not the best terms to refer to the mansion.

A week into her stay, she woke up to big, bright eyes watching her. Lexa is far too dignified to jump and yelp. Unfortunately, that's precisely what she did.

You see, it's not exactly nice to wake up to a grey scale face and big, curious eyes watching you sleep. Something else that she finds lacking on the nice department? Laughing at someone you just scared to death. Or, well, undeath.

Yet that is exactly what the girl did, just after widening her eyes, as though she hadn't expected such a reaction. She flew back and bellowed in absolute ecstasy. And, well, if Lexa stopped for a second and stared slack jawed at the girl's beauty, who can blame her? Clarke is... She may not have colour, but you can clearly tell that her eyes used to be sky blue and her hair was once a beautiful gold and her smile hasn't faded despite years trapped in a house she hates.

"I didn't even say boo," the girl grinned then, and Lexa's eyes, wide as they were, softened at the raspy voice. Finally composed, she took a good look at the immaterial beauty in front of her.

"You are a ghost."

"A true genius," the ghost rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "My name is Clarke. You've probably heard about me."

"You are the ghost that haunts this house?" Lexa asked, and her eyes narrowed. "I thought you were just an urban legend."

"Says the vampire."

Lexa smirked then. "Touchée."

* * *

Learning to live with Clarke was both easy and a struggle. The girl, she eventually learned, is headstrong and stubborn to a fault. Quite moody too, and most certainly outspoken. Opinionated would be the best word to describe Clarke. Lexa fell in love with her very quickly.

The hard part of living with Clarke? Boundaries. Phasing, as it turns out, is as amazing to witness as it is a great means of embarrassment. Like that time she was happily showering, maybe humming to an old tune, and—

"You do know you don't have to shower, right?"

"Shit—" Lexa jumped and hit her head on the bathroom tiles before hasting to cover her chest and nether regions. "Clarke!"

"Sorry," Clarke chuckled, only her head poking through the wall. "Just saying, I was a doctor when I was alive. I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that vampires don't need to shower."

"Your vampire sources could be wrong." Clarke raised an eyebrow and Lexa gave in. "I feel better when I shower. Now, unless you used to watch people bathe when you were alive, please leave."

"Alright, grumpy. Just know that it's nothing I haven't seen before. I used to think you couldn't see me, remember?"

"Clarke!"

The seeing part is something Clarke explained to her early on. Besides being trapped in the mansion, humans cannot see her, unless it is a full moon, and the moment she had realised that Lexa was a vampire, she decided to test whether or not Lexa could see her. The rest is history, as they say.

"There's an exception though," Clarke told her that day. "Solar eclipses. I become material when they happen, so humans can see me. Best days of the year." Her smile was so brilliant that Lexa almost felt herself burn. "Unfortunately, they only last a few minutes."

Clarke used to eat Lexa's food before she could plate it. She also loves watching Lexa sleep, because apparently, the notion that vampires need to sleep 'is fascinating'. So yes, boundaries with Clarke are... Dubious. Lexa started minding it less and less as she fell deeper and deeper in love with the girl.

There was also that time that Clarke was pissed at Lexa for something she doesn't even remember and started serving as Lexa's personal poltergeist (apparently, Clarke's phasing is an option, not the default). It wasn't nice. It ended, of course, with Clarke and Lexa on either side of a corny romance novel, pulling and pulling until it tore in half and both went hurling back, until Lexa tripped onto her bed and Clarke crashed against the wall.

"Clarke!" Lexa jumped to her feet and ran for the ghost, who was groaning and nursing her head. Lexa knelt in front of her and went to cup her cheek without thinking. Her hand passed through alabaster skin and touched the wall. She pulled her hand back and looked at it, just then remembering. Her shoulder sagged and heaved a crestfallen sigh. It felt like a stone on her heart.

The hardest part of living with Clarke? Not being able to touch her.

"I can't touch living things," Clarke once told her.

"So you cannot touch humans, or animals, or plants." The ghost nodded. "But you can touch all objects."

"Pretty much."

"Can you touch yourself?"

Lexa regretted it the moment if left her mouth. Clarke's lips tore in a shit-eating grin. "Naughty."

Lexa would have blushed if she were able to. Instead, she tried to maintain a shade of her usual stoicism. "I did not mean it like that."

Clarke's grin widened even more, if that were possible. "I know, but it's not every day that I can embarrass you. Anyway, yes, I can touch myself. In every single way," the girl winked.

Lexa masked her flustered state with an eye roll. They smiled at each other then, that spark between them always so alive, unlike them.

"What about me?" Lexa asked timidly, raising one shoulder. "Can you touch me? Can you hold my hand?" Clarke's face fell. "But I'm not alive," Lexa argued, eyes wide with hope.

Clarke's smile was a rueful little thing. "You're also not dead enough."

Lexa nodded, dejected, but an idea soon replaced her self-pity. She stalked up to her desk drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors. She cut off a piece of her hair and offered it to Clarke. "Can you feel this?"

Clarke extended her hand to touch it and her eyes shone when she was able to pick the strands of hair up and place it on her palm.

"There you go," Lexa said, with a lopsided smile on her lips. "Now you have something to remind you that we are both real."

* * *

To say that Lexa knows Clarke like the back of her hand would be an understatement. It runs so much deeper than that.

Ten years of "living" in the same house, seeing practically no one but each other (Lexa likes food too much not to eat it even if she doesn't need it; besides, trips to the hospital are her sustenance), there is a knowledge and awareness that develops between the two of them that neither can explain or want to let go of.

There is only one thing Lexa does not know about Clarke, and that is because she swore to herself that she would not ask. She made that tacit promise because she could see the flash of pain that crossed Clarke's eyes every time something reminded her of it.

Today, though, she finds herself needing to ask.

They are both lying on her bed, Clarke's hand phasing through hers, like they are holding hands. They would not feel it if they were. There is something between them; there has been for at least the past five years. Even if they cannot feel each other in any way, there is this unspoken arrangement. Admitting it would be too painful, for they can never act upon it. There have been around ten solar eclipses for the past five years and the most they have done, too overwhelmed to think about anything else, is hold hands. Clarke is... Radiant. Every one of Lexa's original guesses was right — her eyes do carry oceans in them, her hair does shine like the sun. She has no preference between colour and grey scale Clarke, though. They are just as beautiful. The only thing that makes her yearn for the rarer one is the prospect of touch.

She turns to her side, drinking in all the little things that make up Clarke.

"I am going to ask you something I promised myself not to, because I could see how much pain it caused just to think about it. I am breaking this promise so I can help you," she starts, quiet and steady. Clarke turns to her as well, eyes already knowing. "How did you become a ghost, Clarke?"

The girl sighs softly. "I remember how I died. I found out that my boyfriend of four years was cheating on me and ran home. He followed me into my house and my dad was there and he tried to protect me. In the end, my boyfriend shot my dad, then me, and then himself. As we were dying, my dad turned to me and told me to be brave, that we would see each other one day, and—" Clarke chokes out a sob and Lexa wants nothing more than to hold her. "He died as he was telling me he loved me. Never got to finish that sentence."

"I'm so sorry, Clarke."

"Don't be," the ghost rasps. "It doesn't hurt as much anymore."

Lexa nods pensively, gathering the courage to pose her next question: "Do you know why you are stuck in here?" Clarke shakes her head, still shrouded in the pain of her story. Lexa finds her gaze and holds it, eyes filled with a compassionate intensity. "We could find out, Clarke. I could help you overcome whatever is holding you down and you could finally pass away and be with your father again. With your whole family."

Clarke is frowning by now, shaking her head. "What? But- No. What about you?"

"You can leave me a token." She almost tries to caress Clarke's hair, but stops herself just in time.

Clarke's frown deepens. "I would be leaving you."

Lexa's gaze softens. "This is not about me, Clarke."

Clarke sits up like she's been burned. "No, Lexa," she states firmly, angrily even. "This is _exactly_ about you." Lexa frowns and before she can speak, Clarke ploughs on. "God, Lexa, don't you understand? I don't want to leave you. A hypothetical afterlife with my dad doesn't cut it in comparison to eternity with you."

"We are stuck in a limbo, Clarke!" Lexa exclaims, standing up too. Clarke is stunned and she forces herself to regain her composure before continuing. She swallows and resumes in tender, heartbroken whispers. "I can't touch you, I can't kiss you, I can't- I can't love you like I want to and like I wish every single day that I could. It has been torture enough for the past ten years, can we take centuries of this?"

They fall silent after that. Clarke gulps, eyes cast down yet moving everywhere, searching for something to say. She seems to find it at last and her voice is small and all but hopeful.

"There's a magical total eclipse tomorrow. My ghost friend told me that these only happen every thousand years and they have magical properties. I can actually leave the house. And they last for a whole day and night. Twenty-four hours."

A whole day and night with Clarke. Twenty-four hours. Lexa's chest constricts with that hateful little thing called hope.

"We could go out together," Clarke suggests. "You could show me the city. I-" she hesitates. "You could turn me."

"I do not think that would work, Clarke," Lexa says quietly. The ghost nods in sullen agreement. "And after tomorrow... Are you willing to wait another thousand years to be able to touch again?"

* * *

Lexa has no words to describe the moment she wakes up and sees Clarke beside her, blonde and blue eyed and real. Clarke smiles widely, the widest she's ever smiled, and throws her arms around Lexa's neck, hugging her tightly. Lexa breathes her scent in, revels in the feeling of having Clarke in her arms. Lexa loves her so much she barely has words to define it.

For the first time since she died, Lexa eats ice cream. She goes out in plain day, as dark as it is, and feels like she's alive again. They run around, hands interlaced; they jump, they roll in the grass, they do everything they can't on any other day. People. So many people, most of them wearing weird glasses and looking at the sky — Clarke tells her they are watching the eclipse (apparently, Lexa has an internet contract she did not know about).

Lexa has never been so happy.

Eventually the day gives way to night and they find themselves in a bar, drinking to the best hours of their lives.

A song called _Ghost_ (again, according to Clarke) plays and Clarke insists they dance to it — "it's too ironic not to, Lexa" — and then to the next song and the next one and the next one.

Lexa thanks the gods when a calmer song comes on and she can finally show her slow dancing moves. Knowing how to sway can take you a long way.

It's an indescribable feeling when Clarke's hands lace behind her neck and she rests her own hands on the blonde's waist. They sway together, ever closer, until they are but a hair apart.

Clarke nuzzles her neck and whispers into her ear. "I would wait a thousand years to do this again."

Lexa can't help her eyes falling to Clarke's lips, as they do so often. What she has a say on, though, is what she will do about it.

So when Clarke licks her lips, stares at plump ones, and then meets Lexa's intense gaze, the vampire does the one thing she can think of. She closes the distance, pressing her lips to Clarke's.

It feels like coming home.

Clarke's lips are the answer to the simplest questions she could never answer. Clarke's lips are the one thing she has been missing in over a thousand years of existence and Lexa will be damned if she doesn't taste them again.

Which is why, when they finally part for air, Lexa is quick to unite their lips again. And again. And again. And again.

The next time their lips meet, they are back in the mansion and Lexa's hands fly to hair, hips, clothes. Their lips part only when strictly necessary, leaving a path of messy clothes in their way.

The next time their lips meet, they have fallen on the bed, Clarke beneath her, and Lexa loses herself in the kiss before pulling away to look at the person who, even without touch, has made her life complete. Clarke is beautiful. Breath-taking. Lovely.

Lexa loves her. "I love you."

And Clarke, radiant Clarke who drives Lexa up the wall just as easily as she makes her melt into a gay vampire puddle, smiles.

Clarke smiles, and says: "I love you too."

Lexa remembers every single detail after that, until she falls into the deepest, most peaceful slumber in a thousand years.

* * *

Lexa wakes up after what must have been almost eight hours of sleep, by far the most she has had since turning.

The smile on her face is untameable, her hair unkempt, and her heart unrestrained. She wonders how her chest has managed to keep it inside.

She knows Clarke is back to being immaterial, yet like the ghost said last night, they can wait for a thousand years if it means they can repeat yesterday — and last night.

Last night.

Her smile widens impossibly and she rolls on her side to face the woman she loves.

However, Clarke is not there. In her place, Lexa finds only a lock of blonde hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might have a part two, although I do like the ending. I also like my idea for a part two though so it's really up to you
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write this for New Year and then for Valentine's Day but I was finding it really hard to get back into the specific style of this fic. Once I got the structure and feeling right, it flowed much more easily :) anyway, I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Clarke is not sure exactly what got her here. She remembers visiting an old town, intent on fully exploring the perks of being unemployed. Yay. She remembers heading to a bar where she nursed an untouched drink and kept her eyes on the door, like her life would somehow step through that door and look her in the eye.

And it did.

Halfway through the night, the door chimed, and Clarke looked up and froze. The stranger — slightly taller than her, Clarke thought then, with long chestnut curls framing a beautifully sculpted face and clad in a long, black overcoat that looked in no way appropriate to the ice cold weather that haunted Polis — looked up at the same time and piercing green eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as they locked with Clarke's.

As though she'd just seen a ghost.

And as one would do if they saw a ghost, the stranger ran.

Clarke followed. Not knowing where to go, she simply took off running in whatever direction her mind — or her heart, or her gut, or whatever it was she felt pressing at her chest and mind and legs and fingertips, begging her to run after the girl — took her. She ended up in an old dirt road the width of a single car that wound through the woods like a twisting river, careful to avoid its scarier depths, before flowing into an open area. At the centre stood a greying house surrounded by fields of dried up grass and overgrown weeds, long dead crops that had never been collected, and sad, yellow-leaved trees crying their branches onto the ground.

Pulled by insatiable curiosity and the weirdest feeling of this being exactly where she was supposed to be, Clarke walked up to the house and knocked on the door. She waited for almost a minute, before knocking again. When no answer came, she knocked a third, more impatient time.

When it seemed like she’d better just turn her back on the house, the door swung violently open and out came a head, green eyes burning with the mightiest glare Clarke had ever seen. The moment they settled on Clarke, however, they grew soft, albeit startled, just like the voice that rushed out of full lips. “Clarke.”

Clarke’s own eyes widened. “You know my name?”

“No,” the stranger hastened to explain, a clumsy attempt at making the situation any less weird. “That’s something I say when I am surprised. Most people say ‘good heavens’ or ‘oh my’. I say ‘Clarke’”, the woman shrugged, nonetheless dignified. “I am a big fan of Duperman.”

“You mean Superma—“

“Yes. Superman.”

“…Right. Look, I just want answers. Why did you run away? And how the hell did I find you and this house when I’ve never been in this town before?” The girl remained tight-lipped, avoiding Clarke’s eyes. Clarke must have been crazy when she took the stranger’s hand, but the reaction she got was beautiful: green eyes snapped up to meet hers, wide and amazed and something else Clarke couldn't quite identify.

“Please…”

The girl closed her eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh. Then her eyes opened and locked with Clarke’s, albeit reluctantly. “First, you should know who I am. My name is—“

“Lexa."

 

* * *

 

Learning about an earlier version of herself from Lexa was both easy and a struggle. Lexa, she realised right away, is patient yet straightforward. She doesn't mince her words, but speaks with a gentle, quiet tone that trumps every other sound in the room. She gets under Clarke’s skin so easily it’s ridiculous. And every once in a while, there’s a barely-there smirk or a sassy quip that leave Clarke lost for words. Lexa is confident in spite of her pain, blunt despite her guardedness. Clarke became smitten with her very quickly.

The easy part of it all? Every time Lexa feeds her a bit of information, a new, old memory sprouts in her brain and she explores its every nook and cranny.

With each piece of knowledge she’s given, Clarke starts building a castle of memories around herself, one she’s apparently always lived in but never knew about. Because they’re not someone else’s memories — they’re hers, so each time she gets access to them, a yarn of memories rolls out and she _remembers_.

She remembers eating Lexa’s food before the girl could even sit down to eat it. She remembers scaring Lexa during a shower or ignoring her for a whole day because the brunette did something to annoy her, even though she really doesn’t recall what it was. She also remembers that first time they held hands during a wonderful two-minute eclipse.

The sun had just disappeared when Clarke felt herself change. A look at her hands and she was flesh and colour and  _real_. A look at Lexa's eyes and they were wonder, joy, and _love_.

Clarke brought a hand to touch Lexa's cheek and couldn't stop a tear when she  _felt_ it, soft under her fingertips and trembling with a stifled sob. Her other hand came up to cup Lexa's face and she felt every line, every pore, every ridge and hill. She thumbed the corner of lips, slid her forefingers just under blissful green eyes; the need to  _feel_ overwhelming her every other sense.

She sobbed when a hand laid over one of hers, warm and gentle and perfect, and when long fingers closed around her palm and brought their joint hands between them for both of them to stare in awe at. Lexa entwined their fingers and Clarke felt her whole world shake. She squeezed Lexa's hand, felt the quivering of both their bodies, and raised their hands to their eye level. Then she stretched her fingers and Lexa did the same, and they looked at their joined palms and fingers of mismatched lengths, awing at how despite their differences, their hands slotted perfectly together.

Then the sun peeked out again and Clarke's colour faded and her hand slid through Lexa's, no longer able to feel its weight.

She remembers that and so much more and while some memories make her laugh her heart out and some make her smile with the love she'd lost along with her memories, other make her cry and ache at the fact that theirs was a painful, impossible love.

That's the hard part of it all. Every happy memory is tinged with sadness. She remembers her death. She remembers her peace. The peace Lexa gave her so selflessly, sacrificing her own heart in the process.

She realises how long Lexa waited for.

"A thousand years," Lexa reluctantly admits, as they seat on a couch.

Clarke, both elbows perched on her knees, can't hold in a sob and hides her face in one hand. "I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry."

Her free hand is gently taken by one of Lexa's, who bows her head so she can finds Clarke's eyes. "There is nothing to be sorry for." A small smile graces full lips and soft fingers tuck a loose strand of hair behind Clarke's ear. "I wasn't waiting."

"Yeah, because you thought I wouldn't come back."

"And I was happy with that."

She searches Lexa's eyes, looking for a trace of- _something_ that would betray the vampire's words. She finds nothing. "Really?" she asks, her voice grating at her throat.

"Really," Lexa smiles kindly and turns Clarke's hand palm up in hers. The forefinger of her other hand starts rubbing soothing patterns on the blonde's palm. "I knew you were at peace. You were exactly where you should be. Or- well." Lexa swallows glumly. "She was."

And that's the hardest part of it all. Lexa still doesn't believe it's really her.

 

* * *

 

Clarke gets to remember Lexa in such a way that to say that she now knows the vampire like the back of her hand would be an understatement.

If only Lexa would let her heart open itself to the possibility of  _believing_ that Clarke is the same person that lived with her for over ten years and not just a reincarnation. She knows she's missing something; there is something Lexa won't tell her, and she feels that she needs Lexa to tell her so she can remember.

Today, though, she finds herself needing to ask.

Today, specifically, because she can't resist the urge to kiss Lexa anymore and she knows the (technically much, much, much, much) older girl won't want that unless she accepts that Clarke really is- well, Clarke.

They're lying on Lexa's bed, Clarke's arms along her body and Lexa's on the vampire's belly. A tension has grown between them, as though something is meant to happen but hasn't yet, and each second that passes without it happening inflates the air with apprehension. They both know what it is, but bringing it up would be too painful; Lexa is still adamant that the two Clarkes are not the same and Clarke can't face rejection after the rollercoaster of emotions that the past two weeks have been.

It's ironic. Clarke was once trapped on Earth, waiting to cross the threshold to the other side, shackled to the past and what she thought she could never have back. Lexa released her. Now Lexa is the one who refuses to cross another, very different threshold because she's shackled to the past and what she thinks she can never have back. And Clarke- Clarke wants to release her. Lexa gave her peace once — she wants to give Lexa peace now, even if that's all she can ever give the vampire. And she knows she's the key, but she needs to know what the lock is so she can open that door. Only Lexa holds that knowledge.

She turns to her side, head cradled on her hand, drinking in all the little things that make up Lexa.

"I'm going to make you a question I know you've been avoiding giving me the answer to," she starts, quiet and steady. Lexa turns to her as well, eyes already knowing. "What's holding you back?"

Lexa avoids her eyes and she can practically see the walls rising. She has to keep them from going all the way up, so she takes Lexa's hand and catches the viridian gaze she's remembered to love.

"Lexa, please," she asks, her voice husky with pleas she has no words for. "Let yourself have hope."

Lexa swallows and tries to avert her stare again, but Clarke keeps her stranded. The vampire meets her eyes with newfound determination. "I don't want to."

Clarke can't help but frown at both the words and the sadness in beautiful green eyes. "Why?"

"Because hope destroys you," Lexa whispers raggedly as she turns to Clarke, hand tucked between her head and the pillow. "Hope is cruel. Hope gives you the illusion of everything and then takes it away when you believe it the most."

Clarke understands now. Lexa has shut the bare notion that Clarke might be  _her_ Clarke down before it could even settle in her bones because she's afraid of letting it sprout and grow, for it would break her heart even more thoroughly if it turned out not to be true and she were left with the overwhelming knowledge that the Clarke she loved all those years ago was not coming back. Lexa already thinks that way — but to have it confirmed while holding out hope for the opposite would crush her. So she simply decides not to hope at all.

"Hope took me- _her_ ," Clarke concedes, "away from you." Lexa nods. Clarke smiles sadly and brushes a thumb over Lexa's cheek. She does a bad job at keeping the emotion off her voice. "But it also helped you save me. And now, I want to save you."

Lexa's lips pull with difficulty into a rueful smile and her eyes shine with unshed tears. "You can't save me, Clarke. I'm a vampire. I am damned to eternity by definition."

"I can help you move on. Or I can give you — us— a literal happy ever after. Either way, I could make your eternity a little bit more bearable."

Lexa sighs softly and Clarke knows she's managed to win her over. That's another thing she remembers — she usually won Lexa over.

Lexa rolls over to the other side and reaches for her bedside table. She opens one of the drawers and pulls out a folded handkerchief. With gentle fingers, she lays it on the bed and pries the top layer open, exposing its content — a lock of blonde hair, identical to Clarke's in every way she can possibly think of.

"She couldn't touch me. She couldn't touch living — or half-living — things. So one day, I cut off a piece of my hair and gave it to her. When we confirmed that she could touch it, I said-" Lexa's lower lip trembles and Clarke wants nothing more than to hold her. "I said it was a reminder that we were both real. When- when she found peace... She left me this piece of her hair." The silence stretches on, both looking at the one thing Lexa kept from the woman she loves. "She was real, Clarke. I don't want to taint her memory with misplaced wishes."

"But Lexa... I  _know_ what I feel. What I _remember_. These aren't just someone else's memories," she presses. "They're mine. I _lived_ them. I can't explain it, but I know I did. I don't see them through someone else's eyes. I see them through mine. It's like- it's like I had amnesia for a very long time and I'm just now picking up the pieces of my shattered memories."

Lexa's eyes are shining again and Clarke doesn't know what else to do to convince this wonderful, strong, scared girl that she doesn't have to be afraid of her own dreams and hopes anymore.

"We kissed," she says suddenly, softly.

Lexa nods. "One night."

"Kiss me."

Lexa opens her mouth, but no words come out. Clarke leans her forehead on Lexa's temple and brushes a perfect cheek with her lips; not kissing it, just feeling the skin underneath them. "Lexa... please."

"I'm scared, Clarke." And she knows, for Lexa to admit to something like that, that the fear in her heart must be a choking grip.

"Me too."

Lexa looks up at Clarke with wide, wonderstruck eyes. "You are?"

"Yeah," she chuckles wetly and closes her eyes. She can't bear to look into Lexa's eyes and find all the emotions swirling in them. "But I don't want to pressure you into anything. I really fucking need you to kiss me, but if you don't want to- I won't be mad if you don't. All I want is to see you happy."

Lexa lets out a breath through her nose and nods against Clarke's forehead. "Okay."

Clarke leans back, confused. What does Lexa mean? "Okay?"

A tiny, lopsided smile tugs at Lexa's lips as long fingers slide across Clarke's cheek, her jaw, and then thread through her hair. A palm cups the jut of her jaw and a thumb runs down her temple. "Okay."

She can't help the sharp intake of breath as Lexa's fingers curl in her hair and pull her closer and—

Lexa stills and Clarke opens her eyes to see the vampire's wide in shock. She watches as Lexa keeps the hand in her hair and takes the golden lock from the handkerchief with the other, then connects it to a piece of Clarke's hair, halfway between the back of her ear and the back of her neck, that is much shorter than the others.

They fit.

They fit and, when strung together, they become as long all the hair around them. Lexa's shuddering gasp fills the room.

"Huh," Clarke says dumbly. "I always did wonder why I could never grow my hair out."

The last things she expects is for Lexa to snort and immediately cover hear mouth with her hand — only to start laughing heartily and showing no signs of stopping. It's happy and bittersweet and beautiful and contagious, and Clarke can't keep herself from joining Lexa and laughing her heart out too.

It's much later that they finally stop laughing and Lexa leans over her, a hand on her hip and one forearm on the bed beside her head, the hand belonging to it carding fingers through her hair. Lexa is wearing a soft, tender smile and Clarke wants nothing more than to kiss it and taste Lexa's love on her lips.

Lexa's eyes though- Clarke wishes she could spend her whole life staring into them. They shine kindly, lovingly, and Clarke knows the world has shifted. "Thank you," Lexa whispers at last.

"What for?"

"Coming back."

It's Clarke who curls a hand around the back of Lexa's neck and pulls her closer until their lips finally meet. It feels as wonderful as the first time, maybe even better — this time around, there is a feeling of coming back home after being away for too long.

This time around, clothes are shed much more quickly, desperately. It's only many hours later, when they have reassured each other's hearts in all the ways they can think of that they really are here and neither will disappear, that they finally allow themselves the equanimity to find the perfect rhythm, feel the kindest touch, and love with utmost reverence.

 

* * *

 

Clarke wakes up after what must have been almost eight hours of sleep, by far the most she has had since her (second) teenage years.

The smile on her face is untameable, her hair unkempt, and her heart unrestrained. She wonders how her chest has managed to keep it inside.

She knows they have a lot to talk about, yet she doesn't fear that conversation for even a second if it means they can repeat yesterday — and last night.

Last night.

Her smile widens impossibly and she rolls on her side to face the woman she loves.

However, Lexa is not there. In her place, Clarke finds only crumpled sheets and her heart drops to the pit of her stomach.

No.

No, no, no, no, n—

The bedroom door opens and in comes Lexa carrying two mugs of coffee, the smile on those pouty lips the widest Clarke has ever seen. Oblivious to Clarke brief panic, Lexa places both mugs on the bedside table, and crawls onto bed and over the blonde. The next second, Clarke's breath is coming out ragged at the feeling of full, sensuous lips placing light kisses up the column of her neck.

Clarke places a hand on Lexa's chest and stops her when the kisses reach her pulse point. "Stop."

Lexa's confused frown is both heartbreaking and adorable and Clarke can't stop herself before she pecks her favourite pair of lips. Has she mentioned they're pouty and full and beautiful and sexy yet?

"I want you to turn me."

Lexa scoffs and pulls away altogether. "You can't be serious, Clarke."

God, Clarke does hate it when Lexa goes all master-of-reason on her. It's factual, she remembers. So she clamps her jaw and looks Lexa dead in the eye. "I am serious."

Lexa scoffs again, this time making more of a show of it, and sits back on her heels. "It's a _curse_ for a reason, Clarke", Lexa lectures. She hates (and loves) Lexa's insufferable lectures. "You would outlive everyone you love. Eternity is not a euphemism, Clarke. It's real. And it's very hard to endure."

"I've been through the whole 'outliving everyone you love' shit, Lexa, and guess what. I survived the pain," Clarke argues and climbs out of bed, needing to be standing up for this conversation. It's gonna be a long one. "I've  _literally_ been to heaven and back and here I am now, asking you to turn me so I can spend the rest of my life with you."

"It's not just the rest of your life, Clarke. It's basically your whole life, because as time passes these few hundred years will be but a minute compared to the ever-growing span of your life."

Clarke throws her arms in the air, frustrated that Lexa just doesn't  _get_ it. "I knew that when I came back, Lexa!" She knows this is new information, even for herself. The memories start to roll out as she speaks and she grabs each one of them and throws them at Lexa. "I  _chose_ to come back. They gave me a choice, eternity with my family or eternity with you. Guess which one I picked!"

Lexa's reply doesn't come, because the vampire is stood still, frozen, brow furrowed with incredulity — and, Clarke hates to realise it, guilt. Clarke lets the seconds pass, breathing in and out, letting the silence take over.

"You shouldn't have done that."

It's a whisper. She barely hears it. "Why not?"

Lexa's frown deepens, as though she's trying to wrap her head around an unsolvable problem. "Humanity... You will witness many wars, many genocides, many tragedies. You will be reminded of the worst parts of mankind over and over and over again. You will want to kill them all just so you can put an end to their cruelty- and their suffering. Why choose that over eternal happiness?"

Clarke smiles softly, sadly, and sits down on the edge of the bed. She pats the spot next to her and Lexa follows, and she rests her head on the vampire's shoulder. "Because it wasn't." Lexa's confused frown warms her heart. "All the time I was there, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I was there, in the best place I could ever be, but I wasn't really happy, because you weren't there with me." She takes Lexa's hand, pulls it to her lap, and starts playing with the long fingers between her own. "After almost a thousand years of making up for lost time with my family and friends, I was given a choice. I didn't bat an eye." A forehead nudges her temple and she turns her head so she can give Lexa's lips a chaste kiss. "I love you, Lexa. I've made my peace with those I'd left behind in my old life. Now I want to make a new one with you."

Lexa still doesn't speak. Clarke leans up and kisses her forehead, then brings their joint hands to her lips and kisses the back of Lexa's.

"Let's have forever together. Let's see everything, learn everything, do everything we can. And when we decide that we've had enough of this world, we can just- end it and... Go back to the other side."

Lexa heaves a sigh that is equal parts sad and weary. "We would be vampires, Clarke. That means eternal damnation. We would have no place in your heaven, you wouldn't be able to go back. I could never do that to you."

Clarke doesn't even try to stifle the mischievous smirk that fights its way through and only widens when Lexa raises an eyebrow at it. "Well... I might've pulled a few strings."

And she knows that Lexa knows that if anyone could schmooze her way into booking two spots in heaven, that someone is Clarke. So Lexa smiles, tiny and hopeful and a little bit smug. "There _are_ some perks to eternity."

Once again, Clarke's beam is too wide and bright to contain as she climbs onto Lexa's lap. "Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hmm", Lexa hums as she nuzzles the spot behind Clarke's ear. "Stamina is one of them."

"Tempting. What else?" she asks as lips open in a circle around the side of her neck.

"Eternal youth."

She wraps her arms around Lexa's neck and shivers when she feels fangs tease at her sensitive skin. "I like that one."

"Me too," Lexa murmurs against her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. "My favourite, however, starts with a 'y'."

"Oh." Clarke brings a hand to the back of Lexa's head and pulls it closer to her neck. "What is it?"

"You."

The last things she feels before freezing are sharp teeth piercing her skin.


End file.
